


Night out.

by NightsMistress



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the downtime between missions, Kaidan takes Shepard out on a nice, quiet date on the Citadel.  To his surprise, it actually is quiet ... for Shepard</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night out.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mareel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/gifts).



If the mass effect relays were the lifeblood of the galaxy, holding multiple planets and species together in an alliance against the Reapers, then the Citadel was its heart. The Council may have dragged its heels in believing Shepard and his crew about the threat that imperilled the galaxy, but the citizens of the Citadel knew who had been warning them about the Reaper threat. The thought that Commander Shepard was out there, fighting Reapers, meant that people believed that there would be a time after the war was over and that they could carve out a life now that would not be snatched away. Even while other planets were being converted, there was still hope. Hope to believe that despite the odds, they could succeed and that consequently they could — and indeed should — try and snatch some happiness in the face of everything. If it was good enough for Commander Shepard, to live, to fight, and to love, then it was good enough for everyone.

Kaidan had heard this while lying in his hospital bed long before he had started dating Shepard. Even when he could barely think because of how his implant made his head ache, he heard the hospital staff talk about Shepard and how he was the hope of the galaxy. Once just considered a good man, he had been built up to a kind of deity, with all the expectations that entailed. When he had been finally discharged from hospital to Dr Chakwas’ care, the veneration of Shepard hadn’t waned. Instead, with every impossible victory the Shepard that everyone held in their minds was placed higher and higher, and every time Shepard overcame it. It was why they were able to go on. It was why Kaidan mustered his courage and spoke of feelings he had had for Shepard eve since he had seen him on Eden Prime, before their whole universe changed.

That hope was what gave him courage to keep trying. Shepard gave him the courage to keep trying. He wondered, though, who gave Shepard the courage to keep going, to storm against the odds and come out on top. He knew that Shepard was just a man. A brilliant man, but one who felt the responsibilities placed upon him keenly. One who desperately needed a night to himself.

As such, after their latest victory, a skirmish on a moon to claim relics that could be useful for the Crucible, Kaidan took advantage of the ship being refitted and went to visit the staff at Huerta Memorial Hospital. Ostensibly it was for a checkup, which he was due for given how badly he had been injured on Mars. But he also remembered that the staff there had an unerring sense of which restaurants were very good but also just enough under the radar that the media wouldn’t stalk them on a regular basis. A few inquiries later, and Kaidan had the name of a restaurant he was told would definitely meet his requirements.

The Elegant Fall, despite its pretentious and nearly incomprehensible name, lived up to expectations. Tucked away on an upper level of the Citadel, the restaurant shunned the views of the Presidium that most buildings sought for and instead made the best of the view it had of the stars outside. From the outside, it looked like most other restaurants on the Citadel: glass tables and chairs both inside and out, dark synthetic walls with prints of various artists’ work arranged carefully on exposed flat surfaces, soft ambient lighting that probably would make reading menus difficult. However, the roof was made of clear safety glass and from what Kaidan could see from outside, the view was breathtaking. The view was so clear, the stars seemed to breathe as they were suspended in the impossible black of space. 

At the front of the restaurant, behind a tall stand that had suspended on it a sign saying “Please wait to be seated” was a tall asari in the ubiquitous clothing choice of oxygen-breathing bipeds working in customer service across the galaxy: a white shirt, black trousers and sensible enclosed shoes. She was also wearing a name badge that said her name was Ilana. It might have even been her real name.

“Can I help you?” Ilana said, automatically, before staring at them, eyes going very wide in surprise. Her hand covered her opened mouth as if to contain words that would spill out otherwise.

“You can,” Shepard said, smiling easily. “We’ve got a reservation here tonight.”

“It’s under Alenko,” Kaidan added when it became clear that Ilana’s wide-eyed stare would not give way to her asking for details of the reservation.

“Oh yes! Of course it is!” she said, flustered, her hands and head tendrils waving in flustered anxiety. “I just didn’t realise that you were that Alenko when we spoke earlier. Please, let me take you to your seat!”

“Lead the way,” Shepard said, and raised an eyebrow to Kaidan after she had passed by to lead them to a table at the back of the restaurant. Kaidan returned the raised eyebrow. Shepard had been getting this kind of reaction for a while, and so he had assumed that Ilana’s reaction was due to assisting Shepard. Being recognised himself was a novelty. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. It gave a new insight into how well Shepard held up under the scrutiny.

“If you need anything, please let any of us know!” Ilana said. “We are here to help, especially two heroes of the Alliance like yourselves!”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Shepard said, smiling. The smile only wavered a little when Ilana did not return to the front dais, but instead to the door marked ‘Manager’. 

“I think we’ve been recognised,” Kaidan said.

“You think?” Shepard said, his lips quirking in a wry smile.

A few minutes after they had settled into their chairs, a balding human man dressed in black trousers, a white shirt and a lurid tie-dyed tie in white and green came up to their table. The little gold name badge proclaimed him to be Jimmy, manager on duty and that he hoped that everyone would have a nice day. So far, it was shaping up to be a day like almost any day with Shepard; people coming up to Shepard while he was in public. At least so far the meetings had not expected anything too difficult from him other than to smile and be gracious in the face of socially awkward adoration. Kaidan was hoping this continued and that they would have a quiet night out.

“Oh, Commander Shepard! It’s such an honour,” Jimmy said, stumbling over his words. 

“The honour’s all ours,” Shepard said. “Is there something I can help you with?” he added after Jimmy continued to linger, clearly wanting something by the tense expression on his face and the way he wrung his hands.

“Uh,” Jimmy said, wide eyed. He swallowed a few times. “My children — they’ve watched all the Blasto movies.”

Kaidan had to hide his smile behind his hand. He met Shepard’s gaze, who shook his head slightly once, a gesture Kaidan knew meant that he could tease Shepard about this later on. Being under Shepard’s command meant learning what each minute gesture meant, and it was always a rewarding experience to crack through the facade of Commander Shepard to the hero underneath. Fortunately, he usually took it well.

“You want an autograph?” Shepard sounded completely sincere, eyes bright and slight smile on his face as he raised his eyes in inquiry. If Kaidan didn’t know better, he would think that Shepard was genuinely pleased to be reminded of his very short-lived film career. However, the way that his mouth quirked in the left corner of his mouth suggested that he was more amused at himself than anything else. 

“You have no idea how much this means to me. And to them!”

Shepard smiled. “Who should I make it out to?”

“Jimmy,” Jimmy said.

Kaidan raised an eyebrow and Jimmy blushed. “My wife named my son after me,” he clarified. “I wouldn’t watch the Blasto movies. Really!”

Kaidan raised his hand, finger pointed to the ceiling and frowned. “All of your kids?”

“She uh - she really liked the name!” Jimmy’s blush intensified

“Relax,” Shepard said, bringing his hands up, palms out, in a pacifying gesture. “It’s no problem.” He took the pen from Jimmy’s fingers.

Shepard’s signature was a lazy sprawl of letters stark across the page of the notebook, the ink from the felt-tipped pen soaking into the paper as he sketched what Kaidan thought was the Normandy. He looked up at Jimmy, still keeping his head down, and asked, “Is there anything else I should put on here?”

Jimmy stared at him, adoration clear on his face, before he shook his head jerkily. “N-no,” he managed finally. “No, that’s perfect.”

Shepard closed the notepad and handed it and the pen back to Jimmy. “Glad I can help.”

Jimmy stared at the signature reverently before tucking it away into a pocket of his trousers. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you so much.” He bounded back to the door marked ‘Office’.

“The perils of fame,” Kaidan quipped, watching Jimmy 

“It could have been worse. I could have been on a date with Javik.”

“That would mean you were on a date. With Javik.”

“There is that,” Shepard conceded, smiling.

“Also, you’ve already destroyed my favourite restaurant on the Citadel.”

“Everyone says that. I’m suspecting a conspiracy.”

“Never.”

“Tali and Garrus can’t even eat there.”

“They like to watch the fish.”

Shepard held up a hand to stop Kaidan. “Let me guess. It’s the fish that were in the fish tank I fell through.”

“You’re good.”

“I wish he’d brought the menus out though,” Shepard commented after a moment. “I’m starving.” 

Kaidan cast his eye around the room and caught the attention of an elcor serving tables. He made eye contact, and then glanced at Shepard. The elcor delicately picked its way through the tables with the slow cautious grace that characterised the elcors’ movement on lower gravity worlds.

“Polite enquiry: how can I assist you?” the elcor intoned ponderously when it arrived at their table. It was not wearing a name badge.

“We were after the menu,” Shepard said. Kaidan was not sure how he did not react to the apron the elcor was wearing: it was pink and had kittens cavorting with balls of string on it.

“Deeply embarrassed: I apologise for the oversight.” The elcor reached behind it with its nose and gently plucked two menus from just out of sight. It placed them with exquisite care in front of Shepard and Kaidan in turn. “Informative: There are many choices that are suitable for humans. Optimistic: I hope that there is one you like.”

“Thank you,” Shepard said. “We’ll look over it and get back to you.”

“Polite leave-taking: I will return when you are ready.”

As the elcor left, Kaidan smiled ruefully at Shepard. “I guess we can’t really ask for recommendations.”

“Elcor alcohol is pretty good,” Shepard said. 

Kaidan frowned at him, uncertain if he was serious. “I’m pretty sure that’s poisonous,” he said finally.

“When Cerberus rebuilt me, they reworked my metabolism,” Shepard explained. He seemed fairly nonchalant about the whole idea that his entire biological system had been reworked to something other than human by human extremists —which, now that Kaidan thought about it, was really very peculiar — though Kaidan knew that a lot of it was an act. “So now I get to drink with Wrex.”

“Is that really a selling point?” Kaidan said, dubiously. Wrex was fairly uninhibited at the best of times. Alcohol could not make things better.

“He’s an affectionate drunk,” Shepard said. It conjured up mental pictures that Kaidan was not sure he wanted to explore. Instead, he explored the menu.

The menu was colour-coded, with food safe for human consumption marked with a red circle in the top left corner, identified with reference to the home world that made it famous. While Kaidan had been tempted by the Andorian curry, he ultimately decided to go with a safe favourite by the time the elcor waitstaff returned. Shepard, shrugging, also ordered the steak and root vegetables.

It seemed peculiarly unfair to eat at a nice restaurant while people were being converted by the Reapers. Kaidan had looked up the statistics once while he was in the hospital and unable to do anything to help in the war effort. He hadn’t looked long before he’d had to look away, sickened at the numbers. However, if the numbers made him sick, he could only imagine what impact they had on Shepard, who for better or worse was being held up as the only hope the galaxy had.

“Hey Shep,”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to get through this, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Shepard said. He smiled but it did not quite reach his eyes. 

Kaidan could remember Shepard before Ash died and how he burned with an incandescent purity of purpose. He drew people to him, good people that Kaidan admired, and shone like a star. Death and resurrection seemed to have made him more of an archetype than a person, and all the while he burned. Even now, when Kaidan knew that he sobbed in his sleep, he burned so bright that you had to be very close to him to see the shadows under his eyes and the drawn lines of his face. He looked tired. He looked burned out. He looked like a man who was slowly bleeding to death, but who would pretend to be fine right up until he fell.

Then his bemused smile lit up his face and he looked like the younger, fresher Commander Shepard before he saved Kaidan from the beacon on Eden Prime and became the saviour of the galaxy.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Kaidan shook his head. “I was just thinking.”

“Seems serious.” Then, as easy as breathing, Shepard said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kaidan tried not to laugh, because even now Shepard would put the needs of his team above all else. “Relax, Shepard,”he said. “We’re on a date, remember?”

“Yeah,” Shepard said. “I guess I’m just out of practice.”

Kaidan huffed a laugh at this. “You and me both. You know, my mom was starting to send me dossiers of people back home I could date.”

“Yeah? Do I have competition?”

“Well,” Kaidan drawled. “One did have a ski lodge.”

“You hate the cold,” Shepard said. “Every time we go to somewhere like Novaria, you act like you’re freezing to death.”

“I didn’t say it was good competition.” Kaidan arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I prefer competitive,” Shepard said, and took a sip from his wine glass. “How is your mother?”

“She’s … holding up.” That seemed inadequate to describe the tension that was threaded through the letters that Kaidan got so very infrequently from her. They were a career Alliance family, and throughout his childhood Kaidan had known that his father could be killed in the line of duty. That realisation did little to ease the terrible uncertainty now that his father was missing, presumed killed, and that it was very possible that she could end up mourning both her husband and son.

“Yeah,” Shepard said, studying Kaidan’s face. Kaidan wondered what he saw there. “I’m sure she is. She’s your mother.”

Shepard, Kaidan remembered, had a mother who also served in the Alliance. He wondered where his mother was stationed now, and how she was holding up, and was embarrassed to admit that he honestly didn’t know. He made a mental note to check later. 

“Kaidan,” Shepard said. Shepard had many different ways to say Kaidan’s name, he’d found. This time it was indicating that he was worried about him, but was not sure what he should be worried about.

He sighed. “Shep, I’m sorry.”

“Look, if it’s about your mother, we can go back.”

Kaidan shook his head. “I’m just thinking about the future.”

“Is this the time where you say you want a tribe of little Krogan babies?”

Kaidan snorted. “You want to set up an orphanage?”

“Nah,” Shepard said, waving the idea away with a dismissive flip of his hand. “Wrex would have my balls if I even thought about it.”

Kaidan conceded the point with a nod. “I’ve just been thinking … what do we do after this?”

“We rebuild.” It sounded so very simple, but Shepard said it with a heartfelt longing. Kaidan could understand that. So much of the last few years had been tearing down everything that people had built up. Every success that they had was coloured by failure. Kaidan living on Vilmire was caused by Shepard choosing to let Ash die. It would be nice, once the war was over, to be able to build on the connections that they had forged during the conflict, and use those to build something good and lasting. Something worthy of all the sacrifices that had been made, and all the terrible choices that had to be done.

“What about you?”

“I don’t think Spectres retire, Kaidan,” Shepard said, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t you get that in the manual?”

“What manual?” Kaidan snorted. “Besides, I didn’t mean retire. I meant … we must be due some down time after all this. What will you build? You, John Shepard?”

Shepard was silent for a long moment of time, frowning and quirking the side of his mouth. “I’ll have to think about that,” he said afterward.

“You should,” Kaidan urged. “Shep, you need something to get through the next few months.”

‘Don’t worry, Kaidan.” Shepard sounded tired, but resolved. “I’ll get through the next few months.”

“And after. I hear that Wrex is going to name a kid after you.”

“With all the people he’s promised to name his kids after he needs half a dozen at least!” Shepard said. He laughed a little. “Who’d have thought that Wrex would be having kids?”

“There’s plenty of time for people to think about families after the war.” Kaidan rested his hand on Shepard’s. “And my parents have a great place we could stay at while you decide what you want to build.”

“Talking about families…” Shepard said, looking meaningfully over to Kaidan’s right. Without moving his head, Kaidan glanced over to see Jimmy bearing down on them with a plate in each hand.

“Oh no,” Kaidan said as an aside to Shepard. Then louder, to Jimmy. “I mean, you shouldn’t have.”

“No, no I wanted to,” Jimmy said. “You’re the first two human Spectres! On behalf of all of us, I really want you to know how much we appreciate your efforts.”

“Thanks,” Shepard said. His smile looked more like a rictus to Kaidan’s eye, an expression that seemed oddly familiar. Shepard had kept his cool under a lot of situations that Kaidan had seen, but he vaguely remembered someone who had adored Shepard with the same, unstinting and frankly disconcerting passion as Jimmy.

It came to him after Jimmy had been persuaded to leave their plates of food and allow them to enjoy it.

“Did he remind you of someone?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Jimmy.”

Shepard laughed. “Trying to guess what his PhD is in?”

“Yeah,” Kaidan said. “Who’d have thought that Conrad Verner had a doctorate?”

“It just goes to show; people are full of surprises.” Shepard took another sip of his wine. “What do you think it’s in?”

Kaidan started to cut at his steak while he considered his options. Shepard had an uncanny ability of drawing the most unconventional of talents to him, right when they were needed, and managing to make them work for him.

“AI history?” he said finally. “Like Liara and her theories, but with AI.”

“Maybe,” Shepard said. He took a bite of his steak and sighed. “Though if all historians can cook steak like this, we should hire some.”

Kaidan took a bite himself and had to agree. It’d been a long time since he’d had good, medium-rare steak. “That’s good,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Shepard said. “Been a while since I got to sit and eat something like this.” He looked unguarded at this moment, unguarded and tired but also pleased. Shepard always did like the simple things in life. It was nice that he finally had a moment like that, and Kaidan was pleased that he was the one who brought it about.

Of course, these moments do not last, and this one was no different. As Shepard and Kaidan finished their meal, a Volus came up to their table, breathing heavily through its breathing regulator.

“Earth-clan! It’s you!” She breathed heavily through its regulator at the end of every sentence, but that was not unusual for a Volus. The furious intensity of her voice, however, was unusual.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Shepard said, brows knitting in confusion. “Do you want to take a seat?”

The Volus did not take a seat. Instead it looked at Shepard with a surprising amount of disdain for a person encased in a full body pressure suit and helmet. “No. But I hear your voice everywhere I go. Every store is your favourite store. They can’t all be!”

Kaidan turned to Shepard, raising an eyebrow as he did so. “You did every store?” he asked archly.

“They gave discounts,” Shepard said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I want it to stop,” she said.

“Do you want me to have a word to them?”

“Yes,” she said fervently. “Please.”

“Not a problem. I find it annoying too,” Shepard said. “I didn’t realise how often it would trigger when I walked past them, and if you live here that has to be worse.”

“Thank you Earth-clan,” the Volus said, She moved away, the usual ambling gait more unsteady than normal presumably from alcohol. 

After that, the rest of the meal went far more smoothly, and after collecting the cheque, they went outside.

“I think we did good today,” Shepard said, slinging his arm over Kaidan’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said. “You signed an autograph for a fan, we defused a situation caused by you claimed every store was your favourite, and didn’t blow up the fish tank. What will we do next?”

Shepard raised his eyebrows provocatively, and dropped his voice down to not quite a whisper, but soft enough that Kaidan could hear it only because he turned said it right into his ear. “You know, I do have this apartment that Anderson gave me.”

“And we’re not due back until tomorrow.”

The war was still waging on in the galaxy, and it was no certain thing that anyone would survive it at all. But, with the comfortably heavy weight of Shepard’s shoulder as Shepard leaned into him, pleasantly sufficiently drunk to be more affectionate than he might normally be in public, Kaidan thought that tonight everything would be okay. Or at least, everything would be all right for them, this night. Tomorrow might be different. Tomorrow they might all die, or worse. But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have tonight. He put his arm around Shepard’s waist, less for balance as it was to have his body alongside Kaidan’s.

“I like your thinking,” Shepard said. “We should go.” 

Kaidan groaned as they made their way to Anderson’s apartment.


End file.
